


One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

by dipshitHarlequin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Suicide, M/M, Podfic, Sadstuck, This Is Almost Solid Pesterlogs and/or Dialogue, This Is My Last JohnDave Suicide Fic I Swear To God, With A Little Bit Of Actual Writing In Between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dipshitHarlequin/pseuds/dipshitHarlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>According to Ao3 all ii write is JohnDave sadstuck, almost all of which involves suicide in one way or another. Why is that? Fuck if ii know. ii'm gonna start uploading more oneshots as ii finish them (shockingly not JohnDave ft. Suicide) and this one just happened to get done first? This is a bad trend, ii need to change it fast.</p></blockquote>





	One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

You knew he was bad, but you didn't know he was this bad.  
Your little group all knew, you all noticed, but no one ever said anything. There was no direct interference.  
You tried being extraordinarily nice, putting up compliments whenever you could, but he would get mad and log off, every time.  
No matter what you said, when you tried to be brighter than normal, no matter which one of you it was, he would always say the same thing, just one word.  
stop   
And then he'd be offline all night. And all night, you would worry. All of you, together.  
You, Rose, and Jade had endless memos, back and forth and all worried sick.  
There was no way to check if he'd did it again, other than asking him to lift his sleeves, which none of you would ever dare to do.  
You'd all been trying to figure out who to tell, what to do, how to help.  
You could try fixing his external issue, the reason he was hurting in so many ways, but it was no use.  
There wasn't one.  
Everything that Dave believed was in his own head.  
He never let anyone in to that part.  
Every day, it was the same.  
Stay silent.  
Worry.  
Stay silent.  
Worry.  
You figured that he knew not to go too far.  
You were all wrong.  
It was just another Friday, nothing very special about it, and you'd all said your uncerimonious goodbyes at the end of the school bell and went your different ways, texting on the bus or in the car, and hoping to see each other Monday.  
Dave doesn't text any of you.  
You make the mistake of thinking nothing of it.  
Until around nine that night, when he sends out a group message.  
im sorry   
You respond quickly, not only already having your phone in hand, but also being incredibly concerned. He hasn't spoken to you in hours, sorry for what?  
sorry?   
just let it happen ok   
what's going on? am i missing something?   
a nice view   
dave, you don't make sense sometimes. view of what?   
downtown   
photography run?   
something like that   
sounds fun! where are you?   
on the hospital   
you're in the hospital? jesus, what did you do?!   
not in   
on   
Oh yeah, they have roof access. You're not sure how he got up there, but if he's taking pictures, the view is probably really incredible.  
St. Bernadine's is one of the tallest buildings around.  
oh man! i bet the view is great! will you make a few extra copies of your pictures for me?   
youre so innocent its kinda sad   
? :(   
i dont have my camera ok   
the only reason i brought my phone was to apologize   
this conversation has already gone on for way too long   
im going to wrap it up in one word ok   
goodbye   
You don't know how it didn't hit you earlier, but it's practically knocking you off your feet now.  
This is it.  
Unless you have something to say about it.  
no.   
no, you're not going to do that.   
dave, this isn't a fucking joke okay? you're not fucking funny.   
i didnt realize i was kidding   
if you wanna say something you should hurry because its cold up here and i think my knees are shaking   
just one thing.   
can you wait for ten minutes?   
ive been waiting for years   
thanks for that by the way   
you guys are the only reason why   
but sometimes you look back at the things that youve been holding on to and you realize that your fingers are starting to slip   
and your hold isnt good enough anymore   
that's the last thing you want to tell me?   
that i wasn't good enough?   
You don't know when you started crying, but you know that it had to have been a while ago, just by the way your tears are rolling off your cheeks and splattering on your phone screen, blurring your messages. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this, not to this intensity.  
You pray to whatever might be out there that he's lying.  
i guess you could twist it into that   
i won't let you do this.   
id like to see you stop me   
dave.   
stop, please.   
just... just let me try to talk to you.   
dont blame yourself if i stop responding   
no, no, i will blame myself.   
i'll never live it down.   
please don't let me kill my best friend.   
You don't have your jacket, or your shoes, or anything really, but none of it matters. You need to get to Dave.  
You dart outside in blind confusion and run the only way you know to go.  
South.  
To the hospital.  
Your socks are wearing as you run and the cold nips at your skin to where you can hardly feel your own body, but you keep moving, almost getting hit by a number of cars and tripping over your own feet in the process.  
dont do that   
that well remember you and well miss you and please this and please that   
because i already know that no one will ok   
newsflash no one fucking cares   
if anything youll all be happy to see me gone ok i know it i wont mooch your lunches anymore or piss anyone else off or hurt you or trip you in the hallways or draw dicks on your homework   
im not going to fuck your lives up anymore alright   
you can thank me now if you want   
thank you? for what? for breaking my heart, or for making me run all the way downtown at night in my socks?   
thanks for pretending to care   
it helps a little   
i wouldn't be skidding down main street and crying my heart out if i were faking and i'm not even going to vaguely hint that i have more dignity than that because i really don't and i need you. i need you. maybe no one else does, i can't control them. i won't act like i can. but i do. and if i'm not enough then...then i'm sorry for not doing better by you.   
im not going to say that i believe you but lets just say you do care ok   
youll move on and forget about me like i never fucking happened   
that isn't true! god, this is the worst time ever to insult you but you are the most hard headed prick i've ever met!   
i can't help you if you won't listen to me!!   
i dont want help   
i just want to exchange goodbyes and pretend that ill see you again someday   
i'm not ready for goodbye! and i never will be! that's why i can't let you leave!   
You approach the hospital and look up immediately, not liking at all what you see.  
He wasn't lying.  
Thirty feet up and you can see his shilouette, standing on the edge with his back to the road, like he doesn't want to see any of the normal, happy people passing by beneath him.  
Or the little boy in shambles that can hardly walk and can barely see through the tears filling the thick rims of his glasses.  
You fling the doors of the hospital open with all the force that your small, shaking arms could release, darting inside and having to catch yourself at the reception desk.  
"I need to get to the roof."  
Your voice is cracked and broken, but comprehensible. The woman at the reception desk, young and incredibly tired-looking, raises an eyebrow at you.  
"Calm down. What's wrong?"  
You let out another strangled sob, so much for calm, and try to wipe your eyes, bumping your glasses up some.  
"M-My best friend, he- he's-" And you break again, another broken plea racking your lungs and rattling your entire body.  
It doesn't take three guesses to figure out what's wrong, and she looks terrified. She buzzes you inside, calling another nurse over to quickly lead you upstairs. You're in far too much of a rush to care for detail, and your blurry vision doesn't help. You just want to get to him.  
Before it's too late.  
Your phone vibrates again, and you're on it in a flash.  
this is the last thing im ever going to ask of you ok just let it fucking happen and try to give me just a little bit of closure   
no! no closure, no goodbyes, and no dead daves! i still have things to tell you and we still have stuff to do, you can't just ditch me off!   
this hourglass is down to his last two grains so if any of the things you want to tell me are things you actually want to say you better type em up quick   
im sick of waiting to make something decent of myself and im sick of waiting on someone to think that i wasnt more than a pesky piece of shit   
im tired john   
and i cant do this anymore   
if i say all of them, will you stay long enough to listen?   
maybe   
you can start whenever youre ready   
and by that i mean do it now because dragging this out is just hurting both of us more   
i know you cheated off my math test last week. i know you were the one who put that confetti bomb in my history textbook. i know you like your left cheek better because there's less freckles on it. i personally like the right one. i know you still have that scar on your butt from when i accidentally stabbed you with my toy shovel in the first grade.   
i know a lot of things you don't know that i know.   
i know that this isn't the first time you've wanted to do this.   
i know that every time there's been something that stopped you before you went too far.   
i know that something, somehow, for some reason, has been keeping you alive all these other times.   
i don't know what it is.   
You make it to the top, and you drop your phone to call to him from the other side of the roof instead.  
"I know that you're thinking about it right now."  
He startles and instinctively steps back, putting his foot against the lip of the ridge the lines the edge of the roof.  
He's only a step away.  
You have to save him /now./  
The nurse behind you seems to know to stay behind and stay silent.  
Thank God for her.  
You step closer, the bitter air again tearing at your exposed flesh, and Dave looks terrified, as well as surprised. He's still got his shades on, but you know how to read him better than anyone.  
"I know that whatever it is, it's still important to you, and you can hold onto it if you really want to."  
You don't think you've ever heard your voice this way, and it's almost unfamiliar.  
Broken and shaking, interrupted by your hiccuping sobs.  
You're a wreck.  
You can only hope that he realizes how much you really care.  
"It doesn't want me to hold on. No one does."  
"I do."  
"No you don't."  
You walk up to him, right up to him, and grab him by the collar, pulling him down to your level and looking him dead in the eye.  
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."  
He stops, considering it for a moment, and shrugs.  
"If we're all spilling the beans here, 'it' is you. It's always been you."  
"So why am I suddenly not enough?"  
"It's always been you, in a little bit of a different light."  
"No cryptic shit from you now, Strider."  
He pushes his shades onto the top of his head, and you can see him much clearer now.  
His tan skin and mottled cheeks , his blonde lashes, fluttering as he blinks slowly at you, and his eyes.  
Even bloodshot and carrying dark bags, they're the lovliest you've ever seen.  
Red, like the shoes he was wearing when you taught him how to tie his own laces. Red, like the burn of your cheeks whenever he would compliment you. Red, like the hearts you drew around his name when you wrote it in your binder in middle school. Red, like the stains on his jeans that he would always lie about. Red, natural and pure as no other shade you know to exist.  
"I love you."  
"I love you too."  
He closes the short distance between you two, kissing you lightly, and only for a fraction of a second.  
Perhaps the best of your life.  
You let go of his collar and grab his hand instead, feeling a little more confident that you can help him now. He has what he wants, you're his.  
You've always been his.  
"Can we go home now?"  
He takes a step down, not on the lip anymore but still dangerously close. He closes his eyes, and he's perfectly silent.  
"Well, say something."  
He takes a deep breath, looking back to you, and squeezing your hand once before drawing his away.  
"I love you...But I'm giving up."  
He doesn't let you raise protest.  
He doesn't give you time.  
His one step forward was only a match for his two steps back.  
He's gone.  
You hear the harsh crack on the pavement below, but you don't look.  
You can't.  
You close your eyes, bite your lip, and it takes everything you have not to follow him.  
You say one more thing, just one, a faint whisper only to swirl away in the winter air, unheard of and unimportant.  
"I wasn't good enough."

**Author's Note:**

> According to Ao3 all ii write is JohnDave sadstuck, almost all of which involves suicide in one way or another. Why is that? Fuck if ii know. ii'm gonna start uploading more oneshots as ii finish them (shockingly not JohnDave ft. Suicide) and this one just happened to get done first? This is a bad trend, ii need to change it fast.


End file.
